


The Calcification of a God

by Swifty_Fox



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Death but like in the Old Guard way where it's more of a vibe than a THING, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nicky Has Catholic Guilt The FicTM, Nicky Misses His Boyfriend The FicTM, Post-Canon, Religious Guilt, Starvation, Yusuf has his shit together but we all know Italians never do so at least there's that, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifty_Fox/pseuds/Swifty_Fox
Summary: Nicolò di Genova would not call what he had with Yusuf a romance.-In which Nicky misses Yusuf and also thinks about Religion a lot: A Character Study
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 15
Kudos: 226





	The Calcification of a God

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know where this came from and the research i did was dubious at best so take this character study and do with it what you will

Nicolò di Genova would not call what he had with Yusuf a romance. 

Romance was emotion, feeling. It was subtle touches and a soft blush on a lovers cheek. It was courtship and engagement and families made or raised. Romance was death and goodbyes and aging hands clutching aging skin, lonely graves and stories told to young listeners. Romance was finite and wild and mortal. 

What Nicky had with Joe….was necessity. 

After a millenia together it was not that they were in love nor lovers nor partners, nor husbands. To love Yusuf was to breathe, to be by his side was to be complete. His needs were Nicolo’s own, his desires a mirror. He was the parts of Nicky that he did not know he had or needed. He was his arms and heart and the eyes on his back and the warmth beside him at night. 

Yusuf and Nicolo were not lovers or husbands or partners and _certainly not boyfriends _. They were two halves of a whole, night and day and sun and moon and the tides and the shores. When Joe walked into a room Nicky knew, when Nicky started in the night Yusuf would awake before his breathing even changed.__

__Nine hundred years it was more than romance. It was Destiny._ _

__To be parted from Joe was to be half alive, stumbling through the world blind and deaf and dumb. It was agony and loneliness far more than immortality could ever bring. It ached like a sword or bullet or knife never could._ _

__

__The small Villa in Pedesina, Italy was love-worn and dusty._ _

__The last time Nicky had been here was the summer of 1934. Mussolini was recently in power and he knew that it would probably be some time yet before he would see the sandy tiled floors and creeping vines of the garden. He and Yusuf had spent a heavenly fortnight here laughing and eating candied figs and _mozzarella di bufala _and enjoying eachothers companionship before once again throwing themselves into the middle of the budding western conflict.___ _

____And now here he was ninety years later once again walking through the beloved threshold. This time the kitchens were empty and cold, dust gathering inches high in the corners and obscuring the grand mirror above the vestibule. If Nicky stood to the full extent of his six three frame he could just barely reach the bottom of the mirror to swipe clean an arc of the mirror. His eyes, bruised and softly hazel, stared mournfully back at him. If he held his breath and listened carefully he could hear the laughing echoes of Yusuf’s voice, preserved in the way that memories were, bouncing through the halls._ _ _ _

____But it was indeed only that, a memory. Ninety years later, a mere few miles from where Nicolo was born, and he was entering the Villa alone this time._ _ _ _

____Copley had had the idea to split them up for a time, a few months, years - merely a blink of an eye to an immortal he argued- until the dust had settled around Merricks death. Too many witnesses, too busy an area and a country that Copley held little sway over. It was better for them to vanish while he cleaned up after. Andy saw the sense in the idea, Andy gave the final order and the rest of their little family could only follow. They had survived centuries by her rule and they trusted it above all others._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Only Nile and Andy would remain together so that the newest among them could be taught the ins and outs of immortality._ _ _ _

____Joe and Nicky, Copley argued, were too conspicuous together. The side effect of being immortal lovers, one supposed, is that one was expected to be by their side for eternity._ _ _ _

____Nicky’s bags sent up puffs of dust as he dropped them into the hand painted tiles of the foyer. One heavy with guns, the other with books and clothes. His boots clicked on the floor as he turned, one two steps, closed the door and locked it definitively. Copley promised to check in every two weeks, to have food delivered, supplies sent, but there would be no contact with the others. Only Andy knew their locations, only Andy because she didn’t quite trust Copley yet - didn’t quite trust anyone._ _ _ _

____Nicky let out a slow measured breath, rubbed his hands together and tried to ignore the crushing pit in his chest, the empty Joe shaped space at his right._ _ _ _

____He was alone._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Andromache had once been worshipped as a God. She had many stories to tell and he figured he did not know them all and as he flipped through the worn pages of a genuine Douay-Rheims, the pages of his favorite psalms lovingly annotated, he wondered which ones, if any, came from the age when she was worshipped as the highest power._ _ _ _

____Nicolo had not prayed in a long time._ _ _ _

____Religion came to him now like the tides, ebbing and flowing with the decades. Sometimes he prayed night and day, murmured words until his vocal cords broke, healed, and broke again. Head bowed, hands clasped, as he once had before the Pope. As he once had before being sent to fight a Holy War. Sometimes he did not speak to God for years, decades even except to rail against the thought of a Higher Power who would allow so many misfortunes. In both states Yusuf was his constant companion, bringing him water when he thirsted and food when he hungered between prayers. He debated religion and ethics and prophets with him into the night, letting him rail against the way the Church took an innocent young child with a heart full of love and devotion and turned him into a wretched killer._ _ _ _

____And then he would hold him, hands infinitely tender and draw him into his chest “ _You are not wretched, nor a killer, my beloved, _” His Yusuf would murmur “ _You are infinite and beautiful and kind and flawed in all the ways that which a human can be.”____ _ _ _

_______“We are not human Joe”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Now that is a debate for another night”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But there was nobody here this time to quiet Nicky’s mind, to assuage his guilt and to speak with him into the long hours of the night about art and philosophy and science. Nicolo who in full italian fashion, was always moving and thinking, thinking, thinking had nobody but spirits and memories to speak to._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Though it was his Joe who was quick to anger and quick to laugh, who wore his emotions willingly and felt them fully, Nicolo was the one who could never turn his mind off. Yusuf seemed content with the world, who, though he could question and pick apart and philosophize until the sun set, did not doubt his place or purpose. Nicky on the other hand, was a trained soldier who let little emotion betray his mask and felt that every step led to a thousand different unknown outcomes to be haunted by._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Without his Joe to calm his mind and settle him he was lost. Time went too slow in a way that rarely plagued the immortal and Nicky found himself searching for anything to do._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Villa was in an advanced state of disrepair and at the two week check in, a two weeks which passed in a blink of an eye and an eternity all at once, Nicky requested a box of tools and spare lumber. He did not bother asking for news of Yusuf, he would not show weakness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The delivery comes the next day and Nicolo takes account of every hammer, wrench and saw. He runs his hands over the lumber, feeling the knots and whorls and feeling the sawdust grate under his skin like sandpaper. He inspects it all with a methodical eye, careful and controlled and efficient as the soldier he once was and will forever be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Nicolo had always been good with his hands. As a young child he used to take apart furniture and carts and daggers, anything he could get his hands on, just to see how they were put back together again. His father, a hard man with strict values, had nurtured that curiosity for its usefulness. He put a chisel and hammer in his hand and taught him to build. To create and labor and pay his homage to God in the sweat of his brow and the ache in his back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He built houses and chairs and tables. He carved hymns and bible passages into the stand that held his mother's washbasin, he etched birds and fish and flowers into his sisters headboard. Nicolo labored his love into every piece he made because words and actions faded but objects would last._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Nicky labored now over this villa, repairing the cracked dining table and the rotten floorboards, hands bleeding and cracked and splintered healing as he worked. He repaired the supporting beams of the roof. He sanded, stained and polished the original stair bannister and steps. He swept and cleared away the broken tiles, special ordering new ones from the same place that had built the original, though it was now his many times great granddaughter who ran the shoppe. He found an old record player and a box of vinyls - leftovers of Yusuf’s though he tried not to think about it too hard- and repaired that too. Sweet Violin filled the air and he spoke little, if at all as time passed. He built and chipped away and sanded, the Villa filling with the smell of wood glue and sawdust and turpentine.  
Jesus Christ was a Carpenter and when Nicolo built he thought perhaps he came a step or two closer to salvation for his shredded soul. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It had served him well, this talent for creation, had bought him many friends and allies in his first life. The Church had seen this talent too and turned it to something else. To destruction and murder. Nicky was an arrow and the Papacy the archer that aimed him, releasing him upon the Holy Lands. That same creative eye served him well in the art of killing. Discovering the weak spots where armor came together, learning how the joint of the wrist, the knee, the elbow, were all much easier to cleanly sever than the lengths of bone between. The vulnerable spot under the armpit, beneath the ribs, the ears, the eyes, the nose. All the places a man could be killed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Many of them he learned and practiced upon Yusuf's body in those early days, before Fate drew them together in a different sort of dance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Nicky knew he was damned. For what he had done to countless faceless men, women, and children, for what he had done to his own Beloved. For how he had betrayed the teachings of his Holy Text._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Thou Shalt Not Kill. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Save for when the greed of the church demanded it. Save for when he justified using his killing power for the good of the world in the centuries since. Mostly he left it up to Yusuf._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________If Joe said what they were doing was right then he believed him. His Joe who never wavered in his Faith, in his conviction that what they were doing was good. Not because he did not question it, but because he did so and still found their cause just._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nicky was growing cynical, alone in this tomb._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________There was a process that happens when one is an Immortal. Andy called it blanking out, Yusuf called it a reset of their brains, unable to cope with such an overload of memory._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________In his mind, Nicolo referred to it as Calcification._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It was a strange process, a slowing of time as whatever was human in them lost to whatever powers that kept them alive. Days, weeks, months passed without realization. One stopped eating, drinking, perhaps even blinking or breathing. It was like running on autopilot, the mind resetting itself for the coming century. Maybe it was a way of coping with trauma, maybe a way of clearing out unneeded information. Memories faded, old ones returned, Nicky would forget the date, the year, the taste of oranges or the smell of horsehide armor. One forgot their bodies needs, forgot that they even lived._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Andy had once spent twenty years sitting in the same spot, unblinking, body wasting away and restoring itself in cycles as she polished and polished and polished her sword until it whittled away into nothing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Normally his Joe was enough to keep him alive, keep the dark and the hollow parts of his soul from drawing him down, down deep inside himself. He fights it at first. Tries to build new things, to create, to think and debate with the walls. He speaks as if Yusuf was there beside him, sings and practices his swordwork. But it cannot keep the calcification the way. He slows down, forgets to eat, to drink, to breathe even._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nicolo died and rose and worked and died and rose again. His skin became thin and yellowed, his bones poking through the delicate flesh like Michaelangelo’s Pieta. He prayed, he worked, he prayed, he died and rose and prayed again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He forgot many things. He forgot the sound of his mother's voice. He forgot the exact color his father's beard turned in the sun. He forgot the name of the flowers his sister used to decorate her room with._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He did not forget Yusuf._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Jesus died and rose upon the third day and died again to return to the Kingdom in Heaven._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nicky received no such mercy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________His hands shook._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They trembled so violently he dropped the sandpaper. He bent to pick it up, fingers grasping and set it once again to the curve of the chair. Back and forth, the soft rasp rising above the birdsong and sounds of Pedesina crawling by. The chair was smooth, but it did not yet shine with the silken flawlessness that it’s three companions did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A hand sander might have done it faster, done it better. But Nicky had the skill. And he had the time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He had all the time in the world._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The universe had ceased to exist outside of his little home. He could not remember the last time he had smelled fresh air, when he had last felt sun on his skin. He did not need to, he had all that he required right here, with the work for his hands and righteous prayer on his lips. There was no telling how much time had passed. The Sun rose and fell, his body starved and expired and he still worked, walking the rooms of the Villa until he was sure his heels wore tracks into the floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And still he worked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The sandpaper fell again, fluttering to the ground like a scarf and he bends to retrieve it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A hand. Brown skinned, unscarred as all immortals were, square manicured nails and blunt but elegant fingertips. Hands made for music, hands formed to hold a scimitar. A hand reaches out and picks up the sandpaper._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nicolo looks up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Jesus was said to be beautiful. Filled with the Holy Spirit and and the love of God he shone like the sun. Grown men would weep, babies would laugh and women found themselves filled with devotion. Jesus of Nazareth _was _Love in its purest form.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He did not hold a _candle _to Nicky’s Yusuf.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Joe smiles down at him, dust motes and lights drifting around his curls like a nimbus._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Nicky tries to say Yusuf’s name. His throat clicks, dry as the desert upon which they had once fought. He tries again and a painful rasp escapes his lips._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He stands instead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Stumbles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Falls, his wasted body betraying him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________But instead of hard ceramic greeting him as there had been countless times before there were those warrior poet hands, warm and gentle, catching his shoulders and cradling him against a beating chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“Oh my Nicolo” _his beloved says, brushing limp hair from his sweating forehead _“You Catholics always do embrace suffering too readily”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Yusuf spoke Italian to him. Not the harsh, too fast too garbled modern language, but rather the slow musical dialect of his childhood. The only man in the entire world save for Nicolo who spoke his language in its truest form._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Nicky hitches a breath, a dry ragged sob. He would cry but his body did not have the salt to spare. He settles for clutching Joe’s arm, fingers digging in for what feels to him tightly, but when he looks he can see they barely make a dent in the other man's healthy skin._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________“Up we go darling” _Yosef whispers, bracing Nicky as he leverages both men to their feet. Though he allows Nicolo the dignity of keeping his feet on the ground, there were no illusions that he was not being carried.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Up the steps, lovingly repaired though a fine layer of dust coated them, past the bedroom whose frame was still sagging and rotten - Nicky had taken to sleeping on the less rotten chaise lounge downstairs, and perhaps to avoid the thought of the many hours spent in that bed with another warm body beside him- and into the master bathroom._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________This was another room that Nicky had not yet made it to. The tile beneath his feet was grimy at best, cracked and discolored although the orange fresco of circling goldfish could still be seen underfoot. The mirror was shattered, likely by time and weather, but the clawfoot bathtub dominating the space was pristine, if similarly covered in dust._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Yusuf settles Nicolo against the wall, easing him down into a sitting position with infinite tenderness and when he pulls away Nicky catches his sleeve, fingers weak as a newborn but desperation strong._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Joe looks startled for a moment but his eyes soften, glowing, gentle. His face had always seemed like a flower to Nicky, always turned to catch the light and beautiful in a naturalistic sort of way. Stunning only if you truly took a moment to stop and gaze upon it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Only a moment love” he whispers, reverting to english and Nicky feels some sense of relief that he had not forgotten the language as Andy once had with Spanish. He waits, waits until Nicky nods in acquiescence. He returns the gesture, winks with a smile and stands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________The water runs brown at first, rust and dirt from lack of use coloring it, and then clear as the mountain springs the well draws from it. With cupped hands Yusuf brings Nicolo the water to drink, patient as a mountain until he has had his fill. It was like liquid vitality, filling his body with coolness and energy, soothing pain and aches he didn't realize he’d had, so deep was his disconnect._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________His stomach clenches, the water too fast and too sudden for how empty it has been but he swallows it back with the practice of years of starvation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________When he looks up Joe is bent over the tub, muscles bunching beautifully under his shirt as he fills it with water. Steam begins to fill the room, fogging up the cracked mirror and reaching every moisture starved pore of his body. Nicky inhales deeply and Joe looks over his shoulder with a light smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________“Feels good doesn’t it?” _He asks, his Italian tender. It always felt tender falling from his lips. _“Silly man, you should know better.” _he approaches Nicky again, lifts his threadbare sweat-stained and torn shirt over his head and discards it with a wrinkle of his nose _“I suppose you did not bother once to wash. You’re lucky I’ve seen you in worse shape.” _He kneels, stripping Nicky from his pants with quick efficiency that speaks not just of years of unclothing men, but unclothing _Nicky _in particular. His body doesn’t respond, likely too starved of life but neither men feel any shame. They could go years, decades, without indulging in physical desire. It didn’t much matter when they had forever. There were so many ways other than carnal to know a man, and they were patient enough to explore them all.________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________It's a slow painful shuffle towards the bathtub, the water turning his skin a blistering red as he slides gracelessly into it. Water slops over the sides, cleaning away the tile and plastering Yusuf's shirt slick to his chest. The water burns but it’s cleansing, washing away weeks of grime and filth. Nicky catches sight of himself in the reflection of the water, warped by ripples but no less horrifying. His eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow and gaze dull with malnutrition. He looked like a man hours from death, he looked dead already. It was a sick sort of amusement, to know that it meant nothing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Joe, ever loyal, ever chivalrous, tears a strip from his own shirt and uses it as a cloth to bathe Nicolo. His touch was slow, gentle enough that one might almost think that he feared tearing Nicky’s skin. And perhaps in his sickness he could. Maybe he would not die from violent wounds, but from pure exhaustion. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, crumbling to dust under his lovers hands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________His heart beats slow and uneven, limbs trembling despite the scalding water, as Yusuf methodically cleans every inch of his body. Nicky rests, content and easy for the first time in what feels like eternity._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________The faucet drips, the steam leaves the water and then the heat. Yusuf drains and runs the bath again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Nicolo’s heart stops._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Nicky wakes to prayer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________For a blessed, cursed, moment he thinks he is back among his Holy Warriors, praying before the eve of battle. Until he realizes that it’s not Latin caressing his ears, but Arabic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________His eyes weigh a thousand pounds but he forces them open, fluttering against late noon sun and gazes up at the painting ceiling. A wild hunt, ladies dresses flowing and hounds baying as they chase down a desperate fox. Forever hunted, forever eluding his captors._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________It takes several moments to muster the strength to turn his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Normally, Yusuf prayed in private. It was not that he did not trust Nicky with his faith, but that the man who wore every emotion on his sleeve simply chose to keep covenant between him and Allah a private matter. It was a rare and intimate time that Nicky was allowed to witness his love in his most vulnerable state._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Even more so than death, for nothing could hurt you in death, this baring of his partner's soul was him at his most true, most genuine. It was a privilege and an honor and it made him love Yusuf all the more keenly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________His Beloved’s brow was furrowed, beard caught with beads of condensation and forehead peppered with sweat. It must be sweltering from the heat from the bath, but Nicky felt only pleasantly warm. He looks down at himself, his body still wasted and skin still pale, but the greyish hue had vanished. Immortality could return his body to working order, but it could not fix starvation. That would take time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________When he returns his eyes to Joe he finds the man staring at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“How long?” he asks, voice sounds foreign even to himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Six months” Yusuf answers. He was angry, that much Nicky could tell in the tremor of his words and the clipped nature of his voice. It was the restraint that surprised him more than anything._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________He had seen his Joe angry, enraged, delighted and joyous. It was not that he could not reign in his emotions, but simply that he chose otherwise. He chose to feel and react because _‘that is what makes us human still Nicky that is what keeps us young’. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Six months is a long time” he says with a nod._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Joes mouth twitches but he refuses to give into the smile “They say that I am the dramatic one, but I would argue that they have yet to meet a Catholic” he spits the word like one might say the word cockroach but it had only taken Nicky a few decades to learn that it was an affectionate disdain._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Nicolo wasn’t an emotive man. It was not that he feared to feel or express himself, but he did not feel the need to. Yusuf understood this the same way Nicky understood the other mans need to be open. So it was with much more emotion implied behind it when he says,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Six months is a long time to be alone after so long with you by my side.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Joes face softens, jumping from emotion to emotion as easily as a bird flaps its wings. He leans forward and kisses Nicky’s forehead, stubble rasping against sensitive skin. “I was by your side my love. My heart beats in your chest, my blood runs in your veins and every breath you take I inhale with you. Do you not notice?” he takes Nicky’s hand and presses it to his chest, letting him feel the rise and fall of it “Do you not notice my love? How I have made myself match you, our breaths, our heartbeats, everything will be the same no matter how far apart. When your heart stops in death mine stutters and when you breathe again I do as well. Wherever you go Nicolo I am with you because I know you too well to ever be away. I am here because I am you and you are me. Forever.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Nicky presses their foreheads together, his breath ragged, slowing down and speeding up as his wasted body heals itself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Yusuf matches every inhale, every exhale, every stutter and stop and hiccup._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Yusuf was not his lover, he was not a romance or a partner or a _boyfriend. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________He was life. He was a love that the Church could never promise to Nicolo. He needed no prophet, no messiah and no Lord and Savior._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________He had his religion, he had his heaven and it was on earth in the arms of his sworn enemy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
